


No Flowers Without Rain

by Nyhne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, First Meetings, Fluff, Get a fucking job Ludwig, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8261597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyhne/pseuds/Nyhne
Summary: For PruAus Week 2016. Prompt: Rainy Days/Flowers.Three scenes from Berlin. Human AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I've been living in Berlin for about a month now, so I figured I'd use some of my observations for a fic. I do enjoy me some Human AU. :X

1

 

On the first Monday in autumn, it rains.

It’s quite the departure from the previous week, where Gilbert had been sitting on the bank of the Spree, in shorts and a t-shirt, with Francis, Antonio, and a six pack of beer. They had waved at some cops passing by on the river. It had been a good time.

But that Monday, Gilbert pulls on his gray hooded jacket and hunches his shoulders as he treks out of the apartment to go to work. It’s already coming down in a steady drizzle by the time he leaves, and so he throws his hood up and shoves his hands into the pockets before walking down the street.

At twenty-eight, Gilbert works as a mechanic for a rundown auto shop near the center of Berlin. His grades had never been good enough to attend university, unlike his younger brother Ludwig, and so he picked up the job from the shop’s burly Turkish owner, who tossed him the uniform with a shrug when he applied almost five years ago.

It’s not Gilbert’s favorite existence, but it pays the bills. And spares him lectures from his parents about how he should have tried harder in school, how he could have accomplished something, like Ludwig.

Ludwig, who is currently attending grad school and _not_ working full time to pay for their crappy apartment, thank you very much.

Gilbert enters the shop that morning and is immediately hit with the reek of old motors and rusting metal. He waves to Sadik as he crosses over to the breakroom and grabs his uniform to change into. It’s a faded shade of blue, and has grease smudges all over it, Gilbert’s name stitched across the breast in white, looping cursive.

When he walks back to the front, Sadik is arguing with someone at the counter. For a moment, the other person is obscured by Sadik’s figure, but Gilbert can still hear the man’s accented German, its lyrical tone a sharp contrast to the Turk’s throatier sounds.

Gilbert decides it’s in everyone’s best interest that he step in, and so he approaches the counter with a pleasant expression, his eyes gauging his boss’s reactions carefully.

“What’s the problem?” he asks.

Sadik grunts. The customer huffs and the frown is evident in his voice, even without Gilbert seeing it.

“I am simply in need of a telephone. My car stopped working and my phone is out of battery. But _he_ is refusing me service!”

“Service!” Sadik explodes. “ _I’m_ not the one refusing service here! We have a fully functioning auto shop right here and _he_ is the one asking for a telephone so he can go somewhere else!”

The Turk gestures wildly and Gilbert chuckles, finally turning to get a better look at the prick that has just entered their shop.

He doesn’t expect to find him so attractive.

The man standing next to the counter looks almost feminine in his beauty, his skin pale and his lips red as if he hadn’t expected to be caught in cold weather that day. His brunet locks are damp from the rain and plaster to his skin at the back of his neck, but Gilbert can still see the care the other man had put into his appearance from that morning. Gilbert’s grin widens.

“I have already told you,” the man is saying, “I have a perfectly good mechanic in Charlottenburg, I would rather take my car there to be serviced.”

“You fuckin’ rich bastards, thinking you’re too good to go to a shop like this, huh—“

“Aw, c’mon, _Chef_ ,” Gilbert cuts in before it can escalate further. “Cut the guy some slack. Just give him the phone and then we can all be on our merry way, yeah?”

Both the man and Sadik look surprised when Gilbert steps in. Sadik’s eyes narrow after a moment and he mutters something in Turkish before throwing his hands up and stomping back into the shop.

Gilbert shrugs. He knows he’ll get reprimanded for it later, but he’s shown himself to be a good employee and Sadik has no reason to fire him over something so small. So he turns instead to the Austrian, who is still gaping at the entire situation like he has never seen people interact in such a manner.

Gilbert leans back on the counter and smirks. “So, you gonna make that call, or what?”

The man quickly snaps his mouth shut and turns his stunningly violet eyes in Gilbert’s direction, looking almost wary. The smirk on Gilbert’s face grows.

“Don’t tell me I pulled that little stunt for nothing, Schatz.”

The man’s violet eyes immediately narrow. “Excuse me?” he snaps.

“Just testing the waters,” Gilbert responds truthfully, not bothering to be subtle.

The other man’s cheeks flush bright red and Gilbert knows he is right. He holds out his hand and leans forward knowingly. “Gilbert,” he says.

After a moment’s hesitation, the man reaches out to shake it. His lips blush cherry red when he parts them.

“Roderich.”

 

2

 

Roderich waits outside of the shop and shuffles his feet nervously. He doesn’t like waiting inside, as he and Sadik still can’t seem to get along, but Gilbert has arranged to get off of work early today, and they have plans to spend the afternoon together.

After about five minutes of waiting, the shop door finally bangs open and Gilbert steps through, freshly changed out of his blue overalls and a small backpack slung over his shoulder. His grin is like a child’s when he leans in to give Roderich a kiss.

“Sorry that took me so long,” he apologizes. “Tino wouldn’t stop talking in the breakroom.”

Roderich returns the smile with one of his own, softer, but not lacking in the same warmth behind it.

“I was not here long,” he says. “How was work today?”

Gilbert pulls a face as they begin walking. “Lame,” he answers. “We’re still working on that stupid Russian’s car from yesterday. The guy just needs to buy a new fucking car.”

Roderich hums in temperate agreement and then quirks an eyebrow when Gilbert begins leading them in a different direction. “Going somewhere?” he asks.

“You’ll see,” Gilbert nods, without offering much more of a reply.

The brunet lets Gilbert lead as they make their way to an U-Bahn station. And then an S-Bahn station. Gilbert sits across from him and flashes him a boyish smile as he knocks their knees together. Roderich’s hands itch to reach across the gap and hold the other’s hand.

It’s hard to believe it’s already been half a year. Roderich can still remember the day they met, his entire appearance in shambles from getting caught in the rainstorm. Gilbert had looked like the cover of a bad romance novel.

“What are you smiling about?” Gilbert asks once they exit the station, the sun shining through his pale hair.

“I was thinking about us,” Roderich replies. Being with Gilbert has made him more forthcoming.

Gilbert nods sagely and then ruins it with a wink and a characteristic smirk. “My favorite topic,” he says.

“Don’t be narcissistic,” Roderich retorts.

“It’s not narcissistic if it’s true.”

The corner of Roderich’s mouth twitches. “I don’t believe that is how that particular trait works,” he says.

Gilbert nudges him with his hip playfully.

They walk along for a while more in comfortable silence before the surroundings start to look familiar. Gilbert begins digging out his wallet in confirmation.

“The Botanical Gardens?” Roderich asks, turning to the other questioningly.

“Yup,” Gilbert replies, pulling out a twenty as he steers them into the entrance.

Roderich watches as he pays for them both, saving either of them the fuss of offering to pay his fare. At this point, he knows it is futile to offer.

“Is there a reason why?” Roderich prompts again once they are inside the garden grounds. It’s a nice day, and he can hear some springtime birds singing in the thicker parts of the arboretum.

“No reason,” Gilbert shrugs, and they begin meandering through the expansive sprawl of the gardens. Since it is still early in the season, they encounter few others in the arboretum, and eventually Gilbert’s fingers lace with his.

They stop at a bench a few metres from the rose garden, the rose bushes still brown and barely green in their growth.

“We’re a little early for flowers,” Roderich says.

“I know,” says Gilbert. He flashes Roderich one of his trademark grins. “That’s why I brought my own.”

“What—“

Gilbert pulls out of his backpack two perfectly folded origami roses, one violet and one red. He sets both of them on Roderich’s thigh.

“See? That one’s you, and this one’s me.”

Roderich isn’t quite sure what to say in response. He picks up “his rose” and holds it against the light, examining the intricate beauty with a sort of befuddled wonder.

“Kiku taught me how,” Gilbert says proudly next to him.

Springtime birds flutter in Roderich’s heart.

 

3

 

Gilbert wakes up before Roderich most mornings. Usually work pulls him away from enjoying the feeling, but on that Sunday, he has no work and so he gets to simply lie there, Roderich’s skin soft against his own.

When Roderich’s sleeping, Gilbert gets to enjoy all of the subtler features he normally doesn’t see on a day to day basis;

_Roderich’s eyelashes are long, and they curve up slightly like his lips do._

_He has almost no stubble, his genetics keeping his skin smooth._

_There are two indents on the bridge of his nose, where his glasses rest and occasionally slip down so that he can glare at Gilbert from over the rims._

Roderich looks like a little prince, the kind of pretty thing dragons pluck from hills and men go to battle over. Gilbert would go to battle for him, if he asked.

He pulls Roderich closer and it prompts the other to finally stir, Roderich’s long legs sliding against Gilbert’s under the sheets.

“It’s raining,” Roderich says, once his eyes have opened.

“Then it’s a good thing we don’t have anywhere to be,” Gilbert responds, pressing a kiss to the other’s shoulder.

Warm, and with his arms wrapped comfortably around Roderich’s form in their bed, _their apartment_ , Gilbert doesn’t have any other place he would rather be. And outside, in Berlin, it rains.


End file.
